The Thirteenth District
by starlitsmile
Summary: Who knows how District 13 was before it became nothing but a sorrowful memory? Well, this is a look into the life of a girl who did know. A girl who lived her whole life in District 13 - and died there, too.
1. Chapter 1

---- Ok I just finished The Hunger Games. It doesn't tell much about District 13 (after all, THG is only the first in a trilogy) so as the other books get published, all this could come back to totally contradict me. But I hope for the time being, at least, this story is to everyone's liking! ---

I sat curled up in the corner of my bedroom.

Not very long ago now, my family had been one of the richest, most successful families in all of District 13. Which is a marvelous feat, when you really think about it. But now, after many long and tiresome years of war – years of betrayal, muttations, and death – my family was nothing. Wealth was no longer a factor. Everyone weighed in at the same level.

Except those connected to the Capitol. Because those connected to the Capitol were the ones pulling the strings. Were the ones who were winning. Were the ones whose lives continued on as normal, with only a minor disruption in their every day happenings. The Capitol was confident that they would win.

And now, despite not being on their side, so was I.

It seemed completely hopeless. How could any of this even continue any longer? My family, with hunger inhabiting our stomachs endlessly, with our house large and grand but devoid of any joy within it – indeed, we didn't even pay rent for it anymore. But no one came to collect it, either, so that was that.

We were the farthest away from the Capitol. Was that good or bad? A help or a hindrance? It certainly had failed to keep us away from the rebellion – the people of District 13 wanted change just as much as anyone else…or at least, they had.

I was born into the rebellion. It had been raging three years before, and now it continued to rage, thirteen years after.

I hugged my skinny legs to my boney body. Outside a bomb went off and downstairs, where the leftovers of my family hid beneath the remainders of our kitchen table, I heard terrified screams. But I just couldn't scream anymore.

This had gone on my whole life. And I was no longer afraid.

I was furious.


	2. Chapter 2

---- S.N. Black thank-you for the review!! ----

I realize that once the danger of bombs has passed (or at least for the moment) that it'll be my job to get food tonight. And given how angry and destructive I'm feeling, it's probably smart to get out of the house, anyway.

I go over to my window, which isn't all that intelligent of me while who knows what is being flung around out there, I know. My window is dirty and splattered with dirt and other stains. It's a miracle it's even intact, although I can't see much out of it.

What I am aware of, of course, is all the things being smashed around out there. Another crater in the earth, another home going down, another dozen being killed. And that's only the original impact. Because what's worse is what comes out of those bombs – bacteria, radiation, even shrapnel from a long time ago…anything that will kill us, make us weaker, and ultimately: make us lose.

I stand at my window for a long, long time. Every time there's silence I think – _This is it. That's the end of it. We can come out of hiding._ I'm thinking maybe, just maybe, Annie Belock will clang that steel bell of hers to let us know the coast is clear. We've made it through another hour. For now, we're safe.

But that doesn't happen. Each moment of silent last for just that – a moment. And then you hear more explosions and I have to wonder if it will ever even stop this time.

And then, suddenly, it does. Just like that. And I can hear the chiming of Annie Belock's bell. I scratch some grit off the window with my nail, which improves my viewing just a little bit. No one's come out just yet, because it may be a false alarm, and at this very second you don't know what's in the air, anyhow. Don't know if there's some kind of new, invisible muttation just outside your door – waiting to attack.

It's so stupid! We've been rebelling for what seems like ever, but with no result. Nothing to show for all our effort but families torn apart and field after field of headstones. The other countries don't want to get involved. It's Panem's problem, they claim. But I've read books! History is something I soak up – or at least, back when the rebellion was still fresh, and our house was still full of luxuries and we had our very own library…well, I'd sit there forever, just reading about the world. And I _know_. I know that there's been World Wars. So why doesn't the rest of the world come to our aid now?

I sigh. And peek through the little clean-ish patch I've made. People are coming out now, the smoke is clearing. My rumbling stomach and the bewildered chatter drifting up from downstairs reminds me I have a job to do.

I scramble over to another spot in my room. My bedroom is large but now that it contains little, it looks even bigger. I used to have all sorts of useless treasures – now I just have a bed and a chest of drawers, which of course is nothing to be bitter about.

I pull out a jacket and my sturdy shoes, slipping them on, before running down the stairs and out of my house, not even giving my Mother and siblings a wave goodbye, shutting the door firmly behind me.

Out in the street I put my sleeve over my mouth, just in case, and head down to the market. I've got nothing to bargain with this time around, but I do have quick fingers. Yes, that's what the former richest family in District 13 has been reduced to.

Thievery.

Although the bombs have only just been released, the market is already back to a buzz of hungry people, talking and checking that everyone is ok.

I try to keep a low profile. When my sisters come out to the market, they use the opposite approach. But you know, they actually bring stuff to barter with. I'm the one who steals.

And anyway, I don't like it when people point their fingers at me. "Oh how the mighty have fallen, lordy this must be a tough time! Imagine, the Straigh family, amongst us! Reduced to our leftovers." The whispers are harsh but true. Before, my family had everything shipped in from the Capitol. Then, when that was out of the question, we had it shipped from the other districts. Too soon, however, it became clear we could only afford the things of District 13 – even more pitiful, we could only afford the _cheap_ things of District 13. Our house is maintained so appearances are kept up, but everyone knows the true story – we're no more better off than them.

I spot a new stand that I haven't seen before. Maybe it just wasn't there, or maybe I haven't been paying attention lately.

At any rate, it's fruit, and I haven't seen fruit that appetizing in a long time. I'm about to take some, just reaching out my hand, when – "I wouldn't try that," warns a voice.

A spin around, my feet already positioned to get ready to flee. But it's just a boy – just another kid my age. He's manning the booth, but it's evident he doesn't own it, and anyway, he certainly didn't pay for these fruits to be delivered.

"What?" I hiss, "Who are you?" he inquires. I glare at him. "I'm Jap." He then adds, seeing I'm not going to give him a response. "Jap," It's more of a sneer that comes out of me, "What kind of name is _that_?"

"Everyone's down on their luck, which is why the fruit is free. So please, don't try stealing it." Jap says. I look at the fruit. Nothing is ever free anymore. "The only way," I tell him, "The only way it could be free is if it's from the Capitol. Every other district is busy feeding itself. And if it's from the Capitol, then it's poison. Keep that fruit of yours!"

"Please, just tell me," he pleads, "Who are you?"

I give a sniff, "Zai Straigh, richest girl in town, so you can stuff your fruit!"

And then I walk off, empty handed, hearing his laughter as I do.


	3. Chapter 3

--- Oooh thanks so much for all those wonderful reviews! I hope this chapter makes everyone happy, just like the reviews did. :-) ---

When I get home all I have to show my family is some food I stole from out of a garbage bin. No one throws food away now without doing it accidently, so this food is of utmost disgust.

"That's it, Zai?" My younger sister, Amalia, looks up at me with pitted cheeks, "That's all you could get?"

I shrug and drop the remains onto the ground; a greasy black banana, bread that's mostly green, and cabbage filled with holes.

I don't keep track of the days anymore. It might have been last year or possibly even the year before – that's when my Dad died. We had been holding out fairly well but once he was gone everything turned chaotic. My Mother has been reduced to a cold rock, caring for only the smallest of her children, talking only in angered snaps. We've had to burn all the furniture in our house to stay warm – it started with the rocking chair, then some legs off the table, now a few headboards from the beds. And there is no more money coming in. We can't afford even the simplest of things; not a thread, not a button, we don't have a penny to our names.

Speaking of names, I wasn't lying when I told that boy in the market my name. Zai Straigh sounds a bit eccentric, but it's the truth. Well, almost. My complete name is Zaine – said like Zay-nee. As one could imagine, I much prefer Zai.

I have eight siblings in total; five brothers, three sisters, and me. Two of the youngest boys, Aye and Yemar, are twins. Since they're just five, Mom still watches out for them. She also continues to look after Fe, age seven. But after that we're all on our own. After those three, I'm left with the remaining five to look after all on my own: Amalia, Henna, Olaf, Bixe, and Sten.

"Sorry," I murmur, "But this is all."

Everyone, even my Mother, looks at me with disappointment. But I'm not really sure what my Mom expects of me – ever expected from me. It eludes my why she would ever bring nine children into this world…and thing is, there was twelve of us at the beginning. Two older brothers who fought and died alongside my Dad and an older sister, pretty and perfect, who was killed by being caught unaware in the market one day with nowhere to hide when the bombs began to fall.

Henna and Bixe, the oldest after me, sigh and shrug and begin to divvy up the horrendous food. I give my head a slight shake as they move to hand me a scrap – this makes me look self-sacrificing, but the reality is, I'd never put that food in my mouth. It is what it is, edible or not: garbage.

Just then there's a quiet knock on the door, that makes Mom grab Aye, Yemar, and Fe and scuttle into a corner, hiding from her worst nightmare – the landlord coming for rent, people from the Capitol to kill us all, citizens from town come to take whatever we have left.

I usher Amalia under the table once more with Olaf and Sten. I pull Henna along with me and Bixe follows behind. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I pull open the door just slightly. Only my nose and eyes peek out.

It's that boy…Jap.

He holds up a box of fresh fruit, "You forgot yours," he informs me.

"Listen," I hiss, positive that if he's tracked us down he must be from the Capitol, "I already told you what you could do with your fruit."

But my bold proclamation is cut off as Henna swings open the door and says loudly, "Zai, you didn't mention there was _fresh_ fruit!"

Smiling, Jap nods and hands the box of it to Bixe. "Don't!" I warn my siblings, "It's free and I've never seen Jap 'round before. Don't you know anything? It could be poisoned."

Henna's face is frozen in fear for a second before Bixe says, "But Zai, you know his name. How dangerous can he be? Starve to death or go by poison. Either way," Bixe shrugs, "We're dead. Come on in, Jap."

He's twelve but I'm more than willing to tell you that Bixe has a brain fit for a three year-old and a three year-old alone. No common sense or all. Poison or starvation, huh? We'll see how he likes it when he's dead.

I shake that vile idea out of my mind. It's just babblings, that's all. Sometimes I can't help my thoughts.

But it's too late now. Henna takes a shiny apple and bites into it crisply. Bixe is calling up the stairs, "Good food, everybody! Come out, now!" All I can do is look on in disgust.

Soon it's just Jap and I, standing by the front door.

"Just so you know," he whispers, "I am from the Capitol."

And then he leaves, shutting the door silently behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

---- Sorry I've been MIA for, like, a month. Can't really say why, partly major writer's block, partly laziness. Sorry. Thank you for reviewing and reading and hopefully you've stuck with the story. Enjoy the chapter! ----

One week, six days, five hours, and counting.

That's how long it's been since that boy – that traitor – that murderer – that _Jap_…that's how long it's been since he fed my family his poisoned food.

No one's sick yet. Not even the weakest ones – who would unquestionably be Amalia and Olaf – have begun to appear the slightest bit ill.

Still, he admitted it himself. You don't come from the Capitol bringing gifts – you come bringing death. I know that well. If there's anything I've learned throughout my life, it's that fact; the Capitol would rather have you dead than have you at all.

I never put a morsel of it to my lips. I wouldn't have anything to do with it. And because of my stubbornness it's now run out. I was stupid – if they were going to eat it, they should have rationed it. But who will tell a load of starving children that, especially when you're no more than a starving child yourself? I should never have expected Henna to, or my Mom – it's been me practicing the sacrifice, going to bed a little hungry, just to go bed a little hungry the next night and the night after, if only to ensure none of us were hungry enough to die.

I take a deep breath. That was scary. But I wasn't caught. Or maybe I was, a long, long time ago, and no one's had the heart to tell me no. "No," someone should say, "Stealing is wrong." And they should slap me on my wrists or my face or my bottom. That's how it would work in a normal society.

But District 13 – the whole of Panem – none if it is normal society any more. It hasn't been for more than a decade.

I pull the steaming bread and musky-smelling meat out of my coat. I look around. Then I pull out the rest – a chunk of cheese and a two pieces of wilted lettuce. Oh yeah, I'm good.

_Not good, bad,_ I mentally correct, _Stealing is WRONG!_

And I know it. And I just don't care anymore. It's a miracle District 13 can even produce stuff like this anymore. I'm not about to let it escape my family's grasp.

"Let me help you with that," says an irksomely familiar voice.

I don't even bother with checking first. I don't even lift my head up. Tucking my food into my jacket I say, "Goodbye, Jap."

And trot off, although rather awkwardly, because I have a coat full of edibles.

"Your family dead yet?" he asks.

See! I knew it! I glare and then spit at his feet, "You go back to your fancy Capitol," I sneer, "And tell them the poison fruit hasn't worked, 'cause the Straighs are a strong, rich family who shall overcome!"

"Whoa," Jap whistles, "Temper anyone? That was a joke, Zai."

"You!" I snap, "You! You! You insufferable…"

I'm at a loss for words. Did he actually think he was _funny_?

"Yes?" He questions, with a smirk and a sigh.

"You can call me Zaine. Zai is reserved for those I like." I say resoutley.

"Zaine," Jap snorts, "Well then, call me Japan."

I hesitate. Japan doesn't exist any more. But once upon a time it was a country.

"Is this another one of your jokes?" I glower.

"Not at all. My Mother was very in to history," he replies.

"Lucky," I grunt. Because being named after a long-ago place would be amazing. Zaine? Not so great. Lithuania? Now _that'd_ be cool.

Jap grabs my arm suddenly, jolting me and causing me to almost drop my food. "Hey!" I glower once more.

"Sorry. But you know ancient history? You've had intense schooling?" he inquires desperately.

"What's this about?" I ask cautiously.

"Please, Zaine, answer me. I'll explain everything later." He promises. Zaine coming from him still sounds awful. Zany, I recall, another word for crazy. Pronounced just like my very own name. What hopes, I have to wonder, did my parents have for me?

"I've never been to school. Or maybe a few times, when I was younger. No. But we used to have a library…" I reply.

"And who taught –"

"My Father," I respond before he can even finish his latest enquiry, "My Father taught me to read."

"Zaine, I am from the Capitol, but I've run away from it, because my Mom wanted me to know everything I could. Knowledge is dangerous, though, because it means knowing the truth. And the truth is, the Capitol is evil."

Like I couldn't figure that out myself.

"Whatever," I shove the cheese and meat into his hands, "You offered to help," I add in response to his expression of confusion.

"Alright, Zaine. So you trust me?" he asks.

"No," I say, "And by the way, you can call me Zai."

Jap smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

---- Thank you for reviewing. You all rock, and I hope with such rocking reviewers this story rocks, too. :) ----

"So tell me," I say to Jap, who's seated on the floor in front of me in what used to be our library. There's nothing left of it now – the books have been sold, or worse, burnt, and the furniture shared the same fate. Our computer is long gone.

All the same, I brought Jap in last week after we talked, to show him what's become of District 13. So he'd know my truth. The whole truth. So he'd know that absolutely everything he though had been true, with no doubt in his mind at all.

Since then, it's become our hangout. Jap is around every day. He lives with one of the men in the market. He's so stubborn about coming to live here. I don't see what his issue is. We have plenty of vacant rooms.

"So tell me," I continue, "How'd you get here?"

Jap traces a pattern on the dusty, dirty, wooden floor. "My Dad died fighting for the Capitol even though he was against it. My Mom withered away. After that, I ran." He answers eventually.

"And they didn't stop you?" I inquire.

"Maybe they chased me for a bit. I mean, once you're fifteen, you're drafted to fight." Jap shrugs.

I've spent a week with him and mostly we've just talked survival. "So how old are you, anyway?" I ask.

"Fifteen. My birthday is February first." He replies.

I blink. I know I'm thirteen. But that's only counting by years. I don't know a month and I don't know a number. In a distant memory I recall a cake with pink icing, presents, and smiling parents. But now I can't remember my birthday, and if I asked my Mom I doubt she'd remember, either.

"What about your family?" he asks. "Well, you've met them. Kind of hard to miss." I roll my eyes.

"Your dad?" he suggests. Oh, yeah. My Dad…

"He'd like you," I blurt, and feel kind of dumb, kind of like clapping my hand over my mouth to stop the words that have already escaped. But Jap just sits there, waiting to hear the rest.

"He died fighting, along with Duncan and Dennis, my brothers. He taught me to read, taught me to look, taught me to listen. He believed the rebellion, the war, was so right – even though you could plainly see it was so wrong. He wanted all of his children to be smart and ambitious and free…" I sigh again. Even though he died a while ago, I can remember my Father well.

"Obviously that isn't happening. My Mother might as well be dead, too. She only looks after Fe and the twins. She's just another mouth to feed." I bite my lip, "I didn't mean that," I say quietly.

"I know," Jap nods, "My Mom was like that too. But I'm an only child. And Zai, really, you're doing pretty well, looking after your siblings."

I shrug modestly. "There was Lata, too. She was pretty. All the boys liked her. And kind and gentle and…persuasive. My Dad and brothers dying was the first blow. Lata dying was the second blow."

"How pretty?" Jap question.

"Prettier than me, however, that's quite an easy feat." I give a disgusted laugh.

"Oh stop," Jap rolls his eyes. Just then there's a rumble. The bombs begin to fall. "Tell me, Jap," I say, "Where'd you get the fruit from? Enough fruit for almost everyone around here?"

I can hear shouts going up from both inside my house and out of it. Jap smiles grimly. "I stole it, just like you steal. I'll take you, tomorrow, if you're interested." He offers.

I raise an eyebrow, "Jap? A thief?" and then I grin mischievously, "Now who wouldn't be interested?"


	6. Chapter 6

---- Thank you kindly for the reviews, I wouldn't write if it weren't for them (ok, I would, but it would be much less enjoyable) either way, thank you! ----

My breath comes out in short, quick pants. We've been sprinting here, all day long. My siblings don't know where I am…_I_ don't even know where I am!

I blow a strand of my scraggly black hair out of my eyes. "Jap," I whisper and grab his arm, "How much further?"

Jap looks at me, his usually soft-grey eyes a suddenly-intense blue. "Impatient, anyone?" he rolls said eyes, "Look Zai, I told you this would be a bit tricky. We can go back if you're not up to it."

I glower at him. Not up to it? As if I'm to cowardly or maybe to weak? I don't think so. So off I run, faster than before, so that he has to strain to keep up.

"Zai!" he hisses, and I look back carelessly, about to shout some insult like, "What, can't keep up with a girl?" when before I know it I trip over a rut in the road, stumble, and land in a puddle of mud.

Jap looks down at me and sighs. I spit out mud that has gotten in my mouth and glower some more. "Here," Jap says and offers out a hand. I look down at my own hands – and arms, and torso, and legs, and basically every inch of both my clothes and body – and can't figure out why he'd let himself get all mucky too.

Then a realization dawns on me. He probably feels _sorry_ for me. I scrutinize Jap. Yeah, he's run away from the Capitol, but only just recently, and his body is in perfect shape – not malnourished, not covered in cuts and bruises, not burned from the sun or frostbitten from the cold, and not all dirty from not showering for a month. All his nails are cut evenly, his teeth shine white, his hair is cut perfectly and not greasy, and his clothes are in mint condition; and until a couple of weeks ago, I'm willing to bet he never once went to bed hungry.

Sure, he's a _nice_ kid from the Capitol.

But he's still a kid from the Capitol.

"Forget it," I mumble and stand up on my own. Jap takes off his jacket and holds it out for me to use. I scowl. I can _totally_ deal with this on my own. I don't need his Capitol kid sympathy…_or _polite ways. "Forget it!" I repeat and wave away his coat.

For a moment it looks like Jap will insist, or at least say something more, but then the wail of bomb-alarms begins and soon enough the enemy aircraft comes in to view.

"Damn," Jap whispers, the cuss barely leaving his mouth.

I shiver, both from the threat of bombs and the fact that the cool mud meeting with the wind is rather chilly.

"We have to hide!" Jap then decides. I fix him with a look. No shit Sherlock. "Now!" Jap urges.

I look around the vast space around us. We exited the confinements of the city a while ago and now are mostly in the countryside part of District 13, dark forests not to far off, their trees going as far as I can see, although I know Districts 12 and 11 are somewhere just beyond.

"Uh, where?" I inquire as, in the not-so-distant distance, we both hear (and, actually, see the horrible cloud that results from) the first bomb being dropped.

"The forest!" Jap declares and begins to race off. I stand, skeptical, and watch him run towards the never-ending depth of trees. I've never admitted it to anyone, because really, I can't let anyone know but…I'm terrified of the woods.

Halfway between me and the frightening expanse of trees, another bomb goes off and Jap looks back, his eyes widening when he notices I haven't moved an inch. He motions for me to come and yells something, too, only I can't hear over the roar of planes and now constant drop of bombs.

With an evident look of exasperation, Jap rushes back to me. "Come on!" he shouts.

"I…no." I shake my head. Jap sighs. "Because?" he pries. I can't really think of anything to say. I can't explain why I'm more afraid of the forest than of being blown to bits. I've never even been in the woods before. So not only is it a fear, but an _irrational_ fear. Which just makes it worse, somehow. And maybe the thing is, I know about the bombs. I know they can kill you. They're a reality. But the forest which I've never once entered…well, it's unknown. And it's very scary.

Jap sighs again when I take to long to answer. A plane must have seen us because, quite suddenly, a bomb lands just metres away. I scream despite not wanting to. Jap grabs my hand and pulls me and I run along, to thrown out of my senses to resist and realize that, of course, we're heading towards my phobia.

By the time Jap has gotten us deep into the woods and hidden beneath a large overhanging rock, I'm trembling.

"You okay?" Jap questions. I stare at him. Then I shake my head slowly before deciding I don't want him to think I'm a wimp and changing my action to a nod.

Jap chuckles, "Just admit it, Zai. It's alright to be shaken up. That bomb hit pretty close."

Wait…_what???_

Then I remember that bomb which nearly hit us a few minutes ago. Yeah, ok, that was a bit shocking, but you've got to remember, bombs have hit parts of my house and set it on fire. It's everyday. It's no big deal. It's not worth the drama. It's not the reason I shook my head.

"So?" I retort.

Jap snorts, "So you don't have to pretend –"

"I'm not scared of the bombs!" I snap. And my voice, however vicious, must have a small ring of truth to it because Jap goes silent before asking, "So what _are_ you afraid of?"

I don't answer but look around me at my surroundings, which I guess more or less gives it away. Jap smiles, "At least I know you're not indestructible."

I look at him quizzically, "Of course I'm not indestructible. I'm just some girl from a war-torn district."

"Well, for a girl from a war-torn district, you're doing pretty well for yourself. I mean, you take care of eight little kids and one adult while managing to maintain some sanity, although, you can be a bit untrusting at times." Jap shrugs. I raise an eyebrow.

"You don't believe me! See what I mean about untrusting?" Jap adds. I smile, but then remember where I am, and my face creases with worry.

"Hey, Zai, don't be scared. I won't let anything hurt you…" Jap speaks. I screw up my face. "Don't talk to me like I'm a _kid_! I may be younger than you but…but…I'm not some dumb kid." I hiss.

"I know that Zai, I didn't mean anything by it I…" Jap then smiles, "Zaine. I really like that name. It suits you."

"Don't even start." I spit.

"No, I'm serious, Zai. Your name is awesome." "No, _yours_ is." I argue.

"Oh please." Jap bats that comment away, "My parents could have gotten killed. That's why I go by Jap."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because if the government though my parents were starting a rebellion by teaching history and old ways…" Jap begins to explain, but I catch on and cut him off with an, "Oh."

"Did you ever go to school?" He inquires.

"A long long long time ago. They were all bombed and destroyed by the time I was six." I say with a shrug.

"Really? Education is top in the Capitol. I can't believe they'd destroy schools." Jap remarks.

"Educations top, Jap. Think about what you just said. The smarter you guys are, and the dumber we are, well, who's going to win?" I reply.

"True, you just got one thing wrong."

"Which is?"

"I'm on your team, now." Jap corrects. I shrug. We'll see. I know that's rotten to think, but Jap's only been in District 13 for a week. Ok, maybe it took a month to get here, so he's been out of the Capitol. But still. That's only thirty days. I've lived here every single day of my life. Bad as it sounds, I'd probably cross over to the Capitol side the first chance I got. Because really? I hate all the fighting. If I'm going be part of a war, I might as well win.

I hear the crack of fallen branches and think of wild beasts. I inch closer to Jap, fearfully. As if to take my mind off the surrounding forest, Jap begins to talk about the Capitol.

"You'd never know there was a battle going on, Zai. There was always food and resources, never any electricity shortages or loss of glamour. Maybe the only noticeable detail was the missing presence of men. It was a women's city, really." Jap talks.

"The women there are probably much prettier and knowledgeable than those here." I snort.

"Well, not always. I mean, some girl over there were just disguised by makeup." "Yeah, but still pretty." I insist. "But it wasn't them, it was the makeup." Jap says. "No one wears makeup here," I comment.

"Exactly," Jap smiles, "But you're still pretty."

I think about how I usually look. Some twig-thin girl with bones jutting out at all angles, long, unwashed, and unbrushed black hair, brown eyes that swamp my face, and skin covered in freckles and frostbite and sunburn and pimples and scars. Hardly a becoming sight, plus the fact I'm currently covered in mud from head to toe.

"You're an awful liar." I mutter.

"Well then," says Jap, "I guess it's a good thing I'm not lying."

I hear a bomb and a howling pack of wolves at the same time. Screaming at the latter, I move over and close the small distance between Jap and I. He wraps his arms around me and we stay like that until we hear the bombs depart.

---- My longest chapter yet! I hope you guys liked it…? ----


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